


Lavender Breaths On A Hot Night

by imalright



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Bondage, F/F, Glove Kink, Strap-Ons, i thought about naming the strapon and adding it to the characters section
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:07:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24789736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imalright/pseuds/imalright
Summary: “It’s okay, Marianne,” Hilda says, incredibly close, “Everything’s okay.”Everything’s okay. It’s so, so much more than okay. Hilda leans over her, their lips almost touching, her hair falling in an ethereal pink veil all around her and tangling with her baby blue waves over the soft sheets on Marianne’s bed. It’s all Hilda. Hilda, who somehow always smells like fresh lavender. Hilda, whose bold hands grow timid when touching Marianne’s bare skin. Hilda, who she was separated from for nearly five years with only letters to connect them.
Relationships: Marianne von Edmund/Hilda Valentine Goneril
Comments: 4
Kudos: 79





	Lavender Breaths On A Hot Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [brooklynapple](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brooklynapple/gifts).



> this is a thank you gift to [brooklynapple!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brooklynapple/works)

“It’s okay, Marianne,” Hilda says, incredibly close, “Everything’s okay.”

Everything’s okay. It’s so, so much more than okay. Hilda leans over her, their lips almost touching, her hair falling in an ethereal pink veil all around her and tangling with her baby blue waves over the soft sheets on Marianne’s bed. It’s all Hilda. Hilda, who somehow always smells like fresh lavender. Hilda, whose bold hands grow timid when touching Marianne’s bare skin. Hilda, who she was separated from for nearly five years with only letters to connect them.

Imagine her shock upon discovering Hilda kept every single one of her letters.

_You’re really good with words when you don’t run away halfway through a conversation,_ Hilda had told her. She’d never realized her voice was stronger in writing. She’d never realized her words were bolder in writing, either.

Hilda had wasted no time; when the reunion feast was over, when everyone went to bed or went to pray, Hilda pulled Marianne into the courtyard and they shared their first kiss, witnessed only by the moon and the stars and the Goddess herself.

And Marianne, who’d shown Hilda her most private side, shared with Hilda her most personal thoughts, found herself hypnotized and kiss drunk and hungry for more. But that was months ago.

“Y-yes,” Marianne forces out. Hilda presses their lips together, soft in ways she could never be. She continues when they’ve barely pulled apart, “Everything’s okay. I’m okay. P-please, Hilda, keep going.”

Like most things, Hilda’s good at this. She’s good at ghosting her lips over Marianne’s cheek, down her jaw, shooting electric euphoria down her spine with the perfect pressure of teeth against neck. Her hands grow confident against Marianne’s thighs, spreading her open and exposed and yearning for more. She’s good at selecting the softest rope, dyed a pale pink to match her hair, and she’s incredible at tying Marianne’s wrists to the headboard and tying intricate knots over her shoulders and breasts.

She’s laid bare, hot and open, her body aching and crying for more. And Hilda, who’s just as good at teasing as she is everything else, who’s just as fully clothed as she was in the courtyard, strokes a gloved thumb over Marianne’s clit.

“Remember,” Hilda says, watching Marianne with a soft satisfaction as she quivers under her hand, “You need to tell me what you want, what feels good.”

Marianne whimpers.

“I know you can,” Hilda continues, “You were _very_ clear in your letters.”

She punctuates this with the slightest pressure against Marianne’s hole. Her gloved fingers, slick with wet, slide against her and she’s desperate to be filled, desperate to feel the soft leather inside and tearing her apart.

“I want — I —”

Hilda keeps one hand pressing against her opening, teasing her with promises, and reaches the other up to tug on her nipple. With nothing to muffle her voice she cries out.

“Tell me,” Hilda says. Marianne barely hears the words.

“In,” she says, breathes, begs. “I want you inside. Hilda, please, I want you inside.”

She grins. “You got it.”

That teasing pressure gives way as Hilda slides in; shallow at first, then deeper, then more. More. She pulls against her restraints, rocks her hips, anything to release the buildup of pleasure Hilda has artfully crafted. Hilda’s gaze is molten love; Marianne has to look away.

_“Please.”_

“Hmm,” Hilda leans back and the air around Marianne grows cold. Hilda presses back against her thigh, holds her knee against the mattress. “Deeper? Harder?”

“More,” she gasps. She peeks at Hilda from the corner of her eye and shivers at her devious smile.

“More,” Hilda confirms. 

Hilda holds her still as she eases one more, two more fingers inside, stretching her and carefully stroking. Marianne pants, thrusts, anything she can for even more.

“I’m going to fuck you now, okay?”

Marianne nods. Hilda’s fingers leave her empty. She listens to the familiar sound of Hilda strapping on her leather harness underneath her skirt and then, just like every time before, Hilda pushes into her like it’s the first time: careful and hungry. The enchantment on their toy is proof enough to her that the goddess loves her subjects; it’s velvet and warm, comforting and lovely. It’s a blessing.

Everything melts away. Hilda’s hips snap forward, pushing the toy deeper, its ridges pulling pleasure from deep within her core until all that’s left is heat and the sweet taste of Hilda. Being fucked like this, powerless and desperate, crying out as her body rocks and her breasts bounce in their restraints, it’s everything she never knew she wanted. A gift from the goddess, herself. 

“Are you close?” Hilda’s voice barely floats through the haze. Marianne can’t process, can’t think, can’t even begin to conceptualize a world outside Hilda driving her into the mattress.

She comes before the words do; waves of pleasure crest and crash into her body, vibrate under her restraints. Hilda fucks her through it, offers no relief from her relentless pounding while Marianne’s pussy clenches around her. Her voice grows hoarse. Her arms grow sore. Too much transforms into not enough transforms into too much again and the world only comes into focus when Hilda slows, whispers words of encouragement to her, pulls out and rubs soothing circles into her thighs while she comes down from the high.

“Was that good?” Hilda whispers.

“Yes,” Marianne forces out. It’s still hard to think. Still hard to breathe.

“Yay! My turn!” Hilda declares with a grin.

“I need a moment,” Marianne says.

“Hm? Are you sure?” Hilda unclasps the harness and sets it aside on the desk before pulling her panties down, exposing her lovely pink curls and pussy framed by her thigh-high stockings and skirt. Marianne swallows. “You don’t have to do much this time, I’ll do all the work.”

She doesn’t know what to say. She looks from Hilda’s clit to her face, searching for an answer to her unspoken question. Hilda runs a gloved hand through Marianne’s hair.

“Do you wanna see?” she asks. Marianne nods. “Good girl. Open your mouth for me, would you?”

She does. Hilda grips her hair tighter, pulling her head back, and as she climbs up Marianne’s body and situates her knees on either side of her head, as Marianne relaxes into the slow grind of Hilda’s clit against her lips and tongue, she feels warm and soft and all things good.

**Author's Note:**

> well that took a long time to write
> 
> [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/punchyfakegamer)


End file.
